


It was only a kiss (how did it end up like this?)

by MsPeppernose



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Peterick, coffee shop AU, roommates au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:32:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete really needs to get himself out there and stop moping around the apartment.<br/>Because Patrick is just his best friend and roommate. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was only a kiss (how did it end up like this?)

**Author's Note:**

> Title stolen from the Killers / Mr. Brightside.
> 
> I don't own the boys and this obviously never happened.

Pete was going to be late. Not exceptionally late, but late enough to be stressed and pissed off. He should have been at work by 7.30am but he was never going to make it unless he acquired a private jet or a police escort. And it was probably the billionth time to be late. Joe, his boss, was going to let him know that, but in a way that made him feel horrific for being late. In an "I'm not mad, I'm disappointed" sort of way which was always worse. Joe was good to him, as easy going a boss as he could ask for, and Pete considered him a friend now, but it was still work. If Pete wasn't there to open the cafe, it was detrimental to the business. Andy should be there already but it was shit to be left opening up singlehandedly. Pete would make up the hours no problem, and make it up to Andy, but it was a lousy start to the day.

He didn't even really have much an excuse for being late today, he had just gotten delayed. There was no emergency, no drama, no fathomable reason. He liked his job at the coffee shop. His boss and colleague were cool, it was easy enough work, he had access to unlimited vegan baking curtesy of Andy's amazing creations, and he could write during quiet times. But as much as he liked it, it wasn't exactly his ultimate career. Which often made him procrastinate in the mornings, sometimes leading to lateness.

It didn't help that he had had trouble sleeping the night before and that he had ended up staying up talking with his roommate Patrick. Pete often had trouble sleeping, his brain didn't usually switch off enough for it. Patrick was a session musician. He did guitar and vocals for studio stuff and sometimes live performances for small artists but he was wasted on it. Patrick was very talented and Pete never wasted an opportunity to tell him that. He often kept odd hours so he was regularly the grateful distraction for Pete in times of insomnia. He could happily while away the hours solving the problems of the world with Patrick until his mind had emptied enough to let him sleep. Patrick was his best friend. Pete regularly told him they were soul mates, and he was only half joking when he clutched his hand over his heart dramatically and declared his undying like for him. They had known each other since high school and lived together for years. They had long since fallen into a rhythm at home and Pete couldn't imagine having any other roommate.

Pete descended into the subway trying to navigate through the throngs of people who were just like him; making their way through rush hour bullshit to get to a job that they probably didn't quite care about. The subway was always crazy at this time of day. Everyone pushed and shoved and ran and squashed into the train like there was only going to be one single solitary train that day and that they would die if they didn't get on it. People were assholes at that time of the day. Actually some people were assholes all day long but that was a different story. Though he was late and now a little stressed he tried not to be one of those assholes. He didn't flinch when a lady wearing too-bright lipstick and too much perfume shoved past him to get on the train first. He didn't bat an eyelid when a woman with a stroller and a screaming child ran over his foot. He let it slide when a man in a cheap ass shiny suit nearly knocked him over to grab the last free seat on the train. But his patience was wearing very, very thin.

He had roughly a fifteen minute journey on the subway. He put his headphones on and let the music take him away.

As much as he wanted to switch off on the train, one of the only good things about commuting during rush hour was the opportunity to people-watch. Because the city was full of interesting, crazy and fucked up people. It often gave him fodder for his poetry and writings. And it's possible it made him feel more normal. He leaned against the pole for balance and scanned the carriage for interesting people. There weren’t a lot today. Lots of business men, a college student balancing a text book on his lap, a woman applying make up with a practiced hand, a very cute guy in sinfully tight jeans, some teenage girls giggling and taking in loud whispers. His eye travelled back to the guy in the skinny jeans. His hair was dyed blonde and it looked like it took even longer to do than Pete’s own flat ironed and spiked up style. He was strangely impressed. His jeans were just the right side of too tight, he had dark rimmed glasses and cheek bones that would cut fucking diamonds. He pursed his lips thinking about him, and then he noticed that Mr. Skinny Jeans was looking directly at him and Pete was actually being the subway creep that everyone hates. He jerked his gaze away and darted his eyes at the wall, the door, the ceiling, in what was the most ridiculously obvious I-wasn't-staring-at-you way. Fuck.

He spent the rest of his journey fiddling with his cell phone to look busy. After a few stops, the train began to empty a little and some seats were freed up. Pete took a seat not far from Mr. Skinny Jeans, threw the occasional glance in his direction and tried not to get caught checking him out again.

When the train halted at his stop, he moved to the doorway of the carriage and the usual rush to get off the train began. He held back briefly to stop being caught up in the crush to get out. In doing so Mr. Skinny Jeans passed him by and walked ahead of him. Pete returned to his creeping and checked out his ass.

The human traffic always slowed up as it approached the bottle neck of the escalator to ground level so Pete was left shuffling behind the crowds of people. He held on to the side and stood behind hot-skinny-jeans-man trying not to stare directly at his ass.

While he was busy not paying attention he missed the last step and fell forward, propelling himself directly into the man in front of him and almost taking them both to the ground. Skinny Jeans man managed to keep his balance and also somehow managed to narrowly stop Pete from actually face-planting onto the concrete floor. That was all his morning needed: a concussion. There was a throng of people building up behind them, tutting and scowling at Pete like he had intentionally decided to attempt to crack his head open on the way to work, just to block the floor. Mr. Skinny Jeans pulled them both out of the way. "You ok?" he asked.  
Pete mumbled an apology. He could feel a rare blush creeping up his neck. First he had perved on him on the train, and then he had almost killed him on the escalator. Nice work. Perhaps for his finale, Pete could knock a cup of coffee over him or something. He needed to get out of there. "Sorry," he muttered again before shuffling off towards the turn styles to leave the subway. Fuck, what a morning.

Pete got to work only fifteen minutes late and that was because he practically sprinted the block from the subway to the shop. The coffee shop was open already and beginning to get busy. He dumped his belongings in the back room, threw on his apron and hurried to the front of the shop. When he saw the look on Joe's face his heart sank.  
"I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I’ll make it up I swear. I’ll stay late, whatever you need, Joe."  
"Pete. Dude. You're not supposed to be here until 9am today. You're not late. You're an idiot, man."  
Joe smiled. Pete didn't. He'd stressed over nothing. Today could go fuck itself.

Pete sat in the back for the remainder of the time until his shift start feeling sorry for himself and trying to write. In reality he spent the time chewing on his pen and not writing anything. He texted Patrick and told him how sucky his morning had been, knowing Patrick would understand and at least have a little sympathy. Patrick's day didn't start until much later so he wasn't sure if he would even be awake yet. But Pete got a quick response of "Sucks dude. Will bring pizza back tonight. My treat. Don't let the man get you down." Patrick was the best and Pete didn't deserve a friend like him.

When his shift finally started, he was kept as busy as ever for the morning. He filled coffee orders, prepped for the lunch run and kept the place ticking over.

He made a hazelnut cappuccino for a waiting customer and handed it over with a wink and a smile because she had been very flirty and he was finally over his shitty morning. She returned the smile and she even blushed a little. He turned to the next customer and the smile almost fell off Pete's face. The man waiting to place his coffee order was none other than Skinny Jeans that Pete had all but flattened that morning. Pete tried not to remember the embarrassment full force. The man clearly remembered the morning’s events perfectly, he had a tiny smirk on his lips when he ordered his vanilla latte.  
"Your balance better now?" he said with a small smile, obviously trying not to laugh in Pete's face.  
"Yeah, much better." Pete returned the smile. " Sorry again for nearly flattening you this morning. Latte is on me. Call it compensation for accidental assault."  
"Hey, no problem man. I'm just glad no one got hurt."

Pete held the cardboard cup in his hand a little mesmerised by the other man's sparkling smile.  
"It's Mikey."  
"I'm Pete".  
Mikey looked amused. "I mean, you need my name to write on my coffee cup, right? So I know which one is mine? Like at Starbucks?".

Fuck.

Pete wanted to punch himself in the face. Mikey wasn't flirting with him, just friendly customer chit chat. Now he looked like a fucking idiot.  
"Of course."  
He picked up a sharpie and scribbled Mikey's name across the cardboard cup. Pete desperately wished for a distraction so he could run away. Maybe he would get lucky and Andy would set the oven on fire. He busied himself making Mikey's latte, working quickly and burning his finger on the steamer in the process. He swore under his breath but finished making a perfect vanilla latte in record time. He handed it to Mikey who was waiting and checking his cell phone. He looked up and gave Pete a smile. "Thank you, Pete." Then he turned on his heel and left.

Pete was still smiling as he watched Mikey leave the shop and head out into the street. Before he was out of sight, Pete could hear cackling laughter from behind him. He knew exactly who was laughing, and what they were laughing at. He shot Joe and Andy a filthy look and got back to work. "I hate you both." He had horrible co-workers.

Pete got through the rest of the day fine without any more incidents. He closed the shop and was glad to get back on the subway to go home. He picked up basic groceries on the way to his apartment and was overjoyed to fling himself on to the couch and flake out. He switched on the TV and ended up falling asleep soon after with the TV blaring.

Patrick was true to his word and came home several hours later with pizza and sodas as consolation for the shitty day. Pete was so pleased that he didn't even care his epic couch nap was interrupted. And Patrick had even gone the long way home to go to the good pizza place.  
"Trick, are you trying to console me, or marry me? You got the best pizza in town. My day just got better."  
Patrick sat on the other end of the couch and Pete swivelled his body around so that he could put his feet up on Patrick's lap. Pete made obscene noises while he ate the pizza, it was his absolute favourite.

"Dude, keep those noises to yourself. I feel like you're gonna stick your hand in your pants or something," Patrick scolded.  
"Oh I totally would for this pizza, Patrick, it's amazing." Pete made an exaggerated orgasm face and moaned dramatically. Patrick threw a napkin at him.

When the pizza was finished and they were both stuffed to the brim, Pete pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over both of them. It was affectionately called "the dirty blanket." No one could remember where it came from and it was always on the back of the couch for snuggling under, but it always seemed to be a bit dirty no matter how many times it went through the laundry.

"Come on, Pete. Let it out. Tell Uncle Patrick about your crappy day." Patrick patted Pete's legs.

Pete sighed and recounted the events of the day from waking up late, all the way up to making an ass in front of that Mikey guy by introducing himself and Patrick interjected with lots of "You didn't?" and "Aw dude."

Patrick was good at consolation.

Pete felt better and actually got to sleep at a reasonable hour for once. But only after Patrick refused to stay up with him. "I'm not contributing to you waking up late for work again. Joe will kill me, and you'll bankrupt me if I have to bring home the good pizza every night."

****

The next few days past without incident. Patrick was working flat out almost every evening meaning Pete hadn't seen him much at home. He popped by the coffee shop a couple of times for free lattes (free because Pete comped them, or because Joe had a soft spot for Patrick and wouldn't charge him anyway) and to try Andy's amazing vegan baking. Work was busy, the shop was buzzing and Pete was kept going.

Mikey showed up for coffees several times over the next week, usually waiting for Pete to be free before making his coffee order. Pete was all smiles and flirty chat. Pete memorised his order and learned to ignore Joe laughing into a take away cup behind him each time.

Every time Mikey left the shop, Joe ribbed Pete over the flirting. Not that Joe minded him flirting while they were on the job, they all flirted with customers, mostly it was good for business to serve coffee with a smile or a wink (and Pete knew for a fact that there was a bunch of college girls who came in specifically to flirt with Andy and ask him to show them his tattoos), It was more friendly banter pointing out that with all that flirting, maybe Pete should actually ask him out and quit with all the blushing and giggling and just get on with it. Pete gave Joe a friendly reminder that if he freaked Mikey out when he asked him out, Joe would lose a happy regular customer. Joe shut up after that. But it got him thinking. Maybe he could ask Mikey out. He hadn't had a date since god knows when, and maybe it would take his mind off other stuff.

Joe had needed to leave early one day so Pete was on the late shift. Mikey showed up just before Pete was closing the shop and ordered a hot chocolate. While Pete steamed milk and measured chocolate powder, Joe's words floated back into his head. Ask Mikey out. It seemed like a simple thing to do, asking someone out. In theory it was just a question. In reality it was terrifying.

He passed Mikey the take away cup of hot chocolate and Mikey lingered for a second before he looked like he was turning to leave. Fuck it. Pete decided to go for it. Nothing to lose really. He tried not to look too awkward. He knew he was sweating.  
"So, look, feel free to say no, but would you want to go out sometime?" He looked at Mikey wide-eyed and hopeful. Mikey looked like he was thinking about it and to Pete's surprise Mikey took two steps towards him and leaned closer. Before Pete knew what he was doing he found himself moving in and brushing his lips against Mikey's. Mikey kissed back softly at first before opening his mouth to let Pete's tongue in. Pete felt sparks explode in his groin as he moved his hand and clutched at the collar of Mikey's shirt, pulling him a little closer. Mikey stroked along Pete's jaw with his thumb as he wound the fingers on his other hand up into Pete's hair. He took a half a step closer to Pete and their bodies were flush against each other. They kissed for a moment longer before Pete took a sharp intake of breath which he involuntarily exhaled in a soft moan. Fuck, it had been a long time since he had been kissed like that. Or at all. He'd been out of the game for a while, working too hard and being boring.

Mikey broke away smiling, touching his finer to his lips. "I was kinda hoping you would ask me out, y'know. And I'd wanted to do that for a while," he said and Pete beamed.Pete had indeed thought about kissing Mikey a handful of times when he had served Mikey coffee or made polite, professional conversation.  
"So how bout that date?" he asked and again Mikey looked like he was considering his answer. "Sure," he smirked. "You can take me for coffee."  
Pete scowled at him playfully, his eyes smiling. "Very funny, smartass. How ‘bout a real date?"

Mikey leaned again and pressed his lips to Pete's lightly. "Sure. I'd love to."

Pete beamed. They exchanged numbers and arranged to meet later in the week. Pete couldn't get the smile off his face while he closed the shop.

***

"I have a date," Pete announced. He was opening and closing cupboards without really looking in them. He was trying to figure out what to eat but there wasn't a very big selection.

Patrick was sitting at the kitchen bench skimming through news on his laptop. He looked over at Pete, his eyebrows raised in question but didn't speak.

"Remember that guy I made an ass of myself in front of a few weeks ago? The guy I tripped over on the subway? He's been coming into the store regularly now and, I dunno. Joe had been winding me up about flirting with him and maybe asking him out. I totally did it today. We’re going out Thursday night cos I’ve got Friday off." Pete still felt a bit gleeful that he had actually asked out Mikey. And that Mikey had actually said yes.

"That's great Pete. Good for you." Patrick smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Pete's brow furrowed. He'd thought Patrick would be more pleased for him. At the very least it meant Pete would be out of Patrick's hair for a whole night instead of moping around the apartment.

"You ok?" Pete asked.

Patrick seemed to shake himself a little. "Yeah, I'm fine, just tired you know". He closed his laptop. He put his chin on his hand and looked at Pete, a little more interested. "So where are you going for your date?"  
"Just dinner I think. Seems pretty first date-y. Hey look at me! Like a real grown up with a dinner date!"

Patrick got down from the kitchen stool and went to pour himself another coffee. "What are you going to wear on your date?"

Pete knew exactly why Patrick was asking. There had been some fantastically bad fashion choices on dates and nights out before, and worse potential choices where Patrick had stopped him leaving the flat and made him go change. Pete knew how to dress well, but sometimes he forget the whole "less is more" sentiment. Patrick was usually the voice of reason.

"Shit, I’ve no idea. I haven't been on a date in fucking forever. Help me pick something out?" Pete felt mild panic. He had been so pleased to get a date that he hadn't actually thought about any other details of it. Thankfully Patrick agreed and would be able to talk him out of it if he picked something too ridiculous to wear.

"Yes Pete, skinny jeans would be a great idea. No, not the ones that are so worn they have a hole in the crotch. Even if they're your lucky jeans no one wants to see your balls."  
"No Pete, don't wear fluffy boots, where the fuck do you think you're going to for your date? Siberia? Why do you even own those?"  
"Yes Pete, I think a Metallica shirt would be fine. But that one is so tight it looks like it's for a ten year old. Wear a normal sized one."

Pete would be lost without him.

*******

Pete opened an eye and closed it quickly again when the light in his room was far too bright. His limbs felt heavy and he knew there was about five seconds before his hangover kicked in full force. He glanced to the left and saw the blonde head of Mikey beside him, dead to the world, and the memory of the night before came flooding back.

His date had started off really well. Mikey had picked him up from the coffee shop after closing time and then they had grabbed a bite to eat. Conversation was easy and when they left the restaurant Mikey had leaned in close and brushed his lips against Pete's and they stood in the street and shared a fairly chaste kiss. Pete had linked hands with him and had happily accepted when Mikey suggested the grab a drink together. It was at that point that the night had taken a drunken and slightly messy turn.

They had gone to a dive bar for their drink and it had pretty decent music so they had stayed. And ended up drinking far too much. They sat with their heads together and giggled over everything and nothing. There had been several messy kisses in the bar that were an awful lot dirtier than their first kiss in the street, with tongues sliding against each other and hands grasping at clothes.

When they left, and if Pete was remembering correctly it may have been that they were asked to leave because the bar was closing, Mikey had insisted on walking Pete home, which they both knew was code for "can we please go back to yours and continue the debauchery". Mikey was gorgeous and sweet, and Pete hadn't gotten laid in a long time so the answer was undoubtedly a yes.

Mikey had pressed Pete up against the apartment block door and kissed him deeply until they were both breathless. They let themselves in and they stumbled and kissed up the stairs until they reached his apartment door. Pete had whispered loudly, because there is no other way up whisper when you're that drunk, and explained that his roommate was probably asleep and that they needed to keep the noise levels down. He hated being that guy who came home drunk and belligerent and didn't give a shit about anyone else. Trying to be quiet seemed to make them giggle more. They made out on the couch first and laughed at the strange creaks and squeaks the leather made under them as they moved, before bumping and fumbling (hopefully quietly) their way down the badly lit corridor, past Patrick's room and into Pete's. When they reached the bed they were far too drunk and desperate for any sort of organized sex and just kissed messily and jerked each other off until they both collapsed, exhausted and satisfied. They were both passed out soon after.

So now Pete was lying in his bed, hangover threatening to split his skull open, disgusting and unwashed with Mikey next to him. He needed coffee and paracetamol. Now.

He crawled out of bed like a zombie from the grave: stiff and sore and gross, and pulled on some sweat pants. He padded shirtless and barefoot down to the kitchen where Patrick was already up, which meant there was already coffee made. Patrick was obviously an angel sent from coffee heaven to save him.

"You look like shit," was the greeting Pete got. It was a little abrupt, Pete thought, but very accurate. "Ugh kill me, Trick. Before this hangover does. Put me out of my misery." His voice was rough and wrecked from shouting over the music in the dive bar. He put his head on his arms, bending low over the kitchen bench, as if hiding his head would make the world stop being so loud and brash. Patrick didn't say anything but pressed a mug of hot coffee into his hand and slid a packet of paracetamol across the bench. Pete took it gratefully, hoping the caffeine would kick in quickly. Patrick was the best at looking after him.

"Good night?" Patrick asked quietly, his voice level, not looking up from the magazine he was reading.  
"Actually yeah. Great night" he said rubbing his eyes and leaning over the counter to Patrick. "But I'm suffering now. It was late. Thankfully I have no work today or Joe would fire my ass in a second. And, um, I’ve a guest in my room." Pete couldn't help the smile on his face.

"I know," Patrick said slowly. Pete thought he saw something flicker across Patrick’s face but assumed he was imagining it due to excessive alcohol consumption and sleep deprivation. "I hope we didn't wake you?"

Patrick was silent for a second and just replied with, "It's cool". Pete was sure they had woken him and he was just trying to be nice. Though Patrick usually gave him more hell than that if Pete came home drunk and loud so he must be just taking it easy on him. He must look really pitifully hungover. "Is it cool if I ask Mikey to hang out here today?" Pete asked. "I don't want us to get in your way if you've stuff planned". This was assuming that Mikey even wanted to hang out. It was altogether too possible that last night was just a drunken hook up and any minute now, Mikey would be making a feeble excuse and running for the exit.

"Oh" he paused. "Sure. I've got some stuff I need to do today anyway". Pete smiled at him and necked the rest of his coffee, feeling like the caffeine and Advil were beginning to kick in already. He refilled his own cup and poured a second cup of coffee and headed to leave the kitchen.  
"Thanks" He smacked a kiss on Patrick’s cheek and Patrick swatted him away.  
"You smell disgusting Pete, Jesus. Is that a new seduction technique? You're going to knock that guy out with your unwashed hangover smell?".  
Pete smirked "I'm still so sexy" He wiggled his hips and then had to stop because that was too much movement and it made his head hurt. He pouted and Patrick gave him a commiserating pat on the shoulder. Patrick was probably right though, he was gross, and he didn't even know that he had dried spunk on his thigh from the night before. Not very glamorous. Pete just smiled at him and headed off with a coffee for Mikey.

Mikey was awake and fiddling with his cell phone but looked up and smiled.  
"Morning," he said. His hair was mussed up and he looked a little worse for wear, but the smile brightened his face. His voice was as destroyed as Pete's. Pete thrust the coffee mug at him.  
"Hey. I come bearing gifts. My roommate is a godsend and had made coffee already. And I'm an asshole so I stole you some." Pete was rambling, he was useless at morning-after chit chat.  
"Thanks," Mikey smiled, his cell phone still in hand. "Just letting my brother know I'm not lying by the side of the road somewhere. Though I feel like I could be. How much did we drink?"  
Pete laughed, though it hurt to laugh that much. He crossed the room and got back onto the other side of the bed, but stayed on top of the covers. He figured Mikey was mostly likely naked under there and despite the fact they there had been plenty of naked kissing the night before, he was never too sure how to approach things the morning after, especially seeing how drunk they had been. It was best to air on the side of caution.  
"Far too much.". He twirled the coffee cup in his hands, almost spilling coffee into his lap. "But I had fun". Mikey sipped his coffee.  
"I did too."  
Phew, probably not just a sloppy hook up then.

He leaned over and was about to kiss Mikey when he hesitated. "I gotta brush my teeth. I'm pretty gross," he laughed. "I might take a quick shower too." Because he really was gross and if he made himself more presentable maybe there could be more naked kissing.

Pete headed off to the bathroom and had what was arguably one of the best showers ever. The water was hot, the pressure was perfect, the shower gel that Patrick had left in the shower smelled like cherries. He felt like a new person when he was clean and dressed in fresh sweats and a clean tshirt. When he returned Mikey was standing in his boxer shorts fishing something out of his jacket pocket and Pete took the opportunity to check him out in the sober light of day. Mikey was long limbed and lean and fucking gorgeous. Pete wanted to laugh when Mikey produced a tooth brush from his jacket. He had come prepared, the smooth fucker. He waited on the bed for Mikey's return and could her him and Patrick exchange very awkward sounding good morning greetings. There was no not-awkward way to meet your roommates hook-up in the bathroom when he was only in his boxer shorts. Pete owed Patrick a cupcake or something, he put up with a lot of Pete's shit at times.

When Mikey returned his hair was wet but somehow perfectly styled again. And he smelled like cherries too. "I met your house mate in the corridor. He's pretty nice. And cute."

"No macking on Patrick, dude. He totally is, but I'm sitting right here." He pretended to be insulted and made a pouty face until Mikey joined him on the bed with a smile and kissed him.  
"Sorry."  
Pete kissed him back and they wound up making out, slow and lazy, Pete's hand twisting into Mikey's hair, Mikey's fingers curling around Pete's hips. Their making out was just as fantastic as the drunken making out, except that now Pete could savour the feel of Mikey's skin, the taste of his tongue, the press of their chests. They continued to make out until Mikey ran his hands under Pete's shirt, up his body and pulled it over his head. He then slid down the bed and eased his hands into Pete's sweat pants before pulling them off. Pete felt the heat of breath on his dick as Mikey took him into his mouth and got him off in an almost embarrassingly short amount of time making his head swim with contentment. Hangover orgasms were like a soothing balm for everything that was wrong with the world; warm and fluffy in comparison to the sharp loud feeling of a hangover. When Pete had caught his breath he returned the favour. Mikey was a little more vocal with his appreciation and Pete heard the front door slam shut somewhere between Mikey's moans of "fuck" and "oh god". Pete probably owed Patrick a dozen cupcakes now.

Mikey hung around the apartment with Pete for most of the day. They marathoned CSI and ate enough junk food to quell their hangovers until the day got late and Mikey made his excuses and left. He had gone home by the time Patrick returned.

Patrick seemed distracted and distant and blamed it on being tired. Pete felt guilty, Patrick's tiredness was probably because he had an asshole roommate who woke him up at ass crack o’ clock bringing home a date. He decided to treat Patrick to Chinese take-out and by the time the take-out guy delivered, Patrick's mood had lifted a little. He eased up and let Pete tell him about his date and listened and asked questions, and Pete would have cuddled up to him on the couch like they often did, except he really needed an actual full night's sleep in his bed because he had work again tomorrow. Early shift.

******

Mikey came in to the shop the next day for his usually coffee order and Pete was teased for the entire rest of the day by Joe and Andy. Either he was wearing his "I slept with Mikey" tshirt or Joe was psychic. Or it could have been that Pete didn't charge Mikey for his latte and wrote a little "XO" after Mikey's name on the cup. And the fact that they did nothing but smile at each other didn't help either. Pete didn't care though. He had spotted Joe flirting with Greta, another regular, and he was biding his time to start making fun of that. Though Joe would never admit it anyway.

Pete didn't see Mikey much over the next few days other than at coffee time (cue Joe's jokes about Mikey only hooking up with Pete for free coffees). They both had busy and clashing schedules so there was no time for dates or much of anything other than flirty or dirty texts.

Pete spent his evenings holed up on the couch, watching crime shows, writing in his notebooks with some hanging out with Patrick thrown in. He and Patrick were knee deep in a Law and Order: SVU marathon, solving most cases as well as Benson and Stabler would when Pete's cell phone vibrated indicating a text message. It was from Mikey.

"Booty call?" Patrick questioned without taking his eyes off the TV.  
"Not really a booty call, but Mikey asked if I want to hang out. He's done early with at the comic book store. He and his brother were doing some sort of big stock take and it took less time than he thought."  
"Dude it's after ten thirty at night, that not exactly what I'd call early. And it's totally a booty call."  
Pete was thoughtful for a moment as they watched Detective Stabler ruthlessly questioned a perverted assailant. It might be a booty call. He wouldn't mind that, not at all. But SVU with Patrick was important too. "Can I ask him to come join our SVU marathon?"  
"Sure". Patrick didn't take his eyes off the television. "But if you make out on the couch in front of me, I'll take my SVU boxset away. No more Olivia Benson for you. How's that for punishment?" He turned to Pete and narrowed his eyes at him for the full effect but Pete was grinning. "We'll be good."

Patrick didn't sound all that enthusiastic. But he wouldn't say it was ok if it wasn't so he told Mikey to come over.  
Mikey called over not long after and Pete greeted him at the door with a kiss. Patrick and Mikey were introduced, properly this time, while everyone was fully dressed, and Pete thought it went off with the least possible amount of awkwardness. Mikey had brought with him a selection of pastries and cakes that had been given to him and his brother at their store. A supplier was trying to woo them and was sending them gifts to impress them. He explained that they needed to be eaten before they went bad, and who were they to waste free baked goods?

They continued the SVU marathon and Mikey easily joined in with the case solving. Pete was pleased he was so amiable and easy going with it. Patrick was quiet at first but as they got into it he opened up more and the three of them could have solved any case that evening, and the sugar rush from all the pastries didn't seem to harm the good mood in the apartment.

The more the night went on, the closer Mikey sat to Pete, their legs touching and shoulders bumping. Mikey insisted Pete try one of the chocolate frosted cupcakes despite Pete's protest that he was so full of sugar he may fall into a sugar induced coma. He passed it to Pete with a smile but not before brushing his finger along the edge of the frosting and licking it off his finger. He then let his hand rest on Pete's thigh. Mikey Way was a tease.

Pete turned his attention back to the TV but he could see Mikey watching him from corner of his eye. Considering he knew Mikey's eyes were on him, he decided to make a little show of it. But hopefully subtly so that he wouldn't freak out Patrick. He kept his eyes glued to the TV but he could feel Mikey's gaze on him. He started to lick the frosting from the cupcake very slowly. He used the tip of his tongue to lick a small amount of the chocolate cream from the top and then slowly licked his lips. He touched his thumb to the edge of his bottom lip to catch the last little speck of frosting and then pressed the pad of his thumb against his slightly open mouth to clean it. He gave a sideways glance to Mikey and who was practically salivating watching him. The moment was interrupted by Patrick abruptly shifting off the couch on the other side of him.

"I'm going to bed, guys. Night." And then he was gone.

"Dude, you're fucking evil to do that, you know." Mikey’s eyes were dark and he was smiling wickedly. "I think you traumatised Patrick."  
"You started it. With your cupcakes, and your finger licking." Pete turned his body towards Mikey and took another slow lick of the frosting. "I was just eating the frosting. I'm totally innocent" though Mikey didn't look anything close to innocent. He was closing in on Pete. Pete took another lick but he didn't get to finish it. Mikey took the cupcake out of his hand and put it on the coffee table. He cupped Pete's jaw in his hand before launching himself at his mouth and licking the frosting of his lip. Pete kissed back against Mikey's mouth hard until their tongues with stroking against each other and Pete's weight was heavy against Mikey. When the pace quickened and before they started to grind against each other, Pete thought it best to move to his room. Making a show of licking frosting of his lips in the living room was one thing, getting a blow job on the couch, on the dirty blanket when Patrick was in the next room was just bad roommate etiquette. He dragged Mikey down the hall to his room and Mikey brought one of the cup cakes with him with a wicked arch of his eyebrow ("in case we get hungry").

******

Joe's birthday was coming up the following week and he had decided to throw a barbecue in his house. Everyone was invited and it was going to be the party of the summer, or so Joe had told them. In reality it was going to be some burnt sausages, lots of beer and amazing music. It sounded great; Pete was in.

He invited Mikey and told Patrick he had to come too despite Patrick's protests. Pete hadn't seen Patrick as much lately. Patrick had been working extra sessions, the shop was busy and Pete had covered extra shifts. And Pete had been hanging out with Mikey too. They had seen each other quite a bit. But Pete missed Patrick. He missed their closeness, it felt like he hadn't seen him properly in ages. He wanted him at Joe's party and he wanted him to have a good time.

They arrived at Joe's to a ton of people already there. They had come bearing gifts for Joe. A selection of things from alcohol, to vintage tshirts, to a book about the world's strangest tattoos. Joe greeted them warmly, pressing cold beers into their hands and setting them free into the house to mingle.

Pete and Mikey lost Patrick not long after they arrived at the party. They had been in the living room and Patrick had disappeared to find them more beers. When he hadn't come back, Pete went looking for him. The house was full and Pete knew about half of the people there from either the coffee shop or from Joe's previous parties so he was accosted by many and Mikey was introduced to, and interrogated by most of the people he knew well ("Pete you have a BOYFRIEND?," "Fuck you've been single forever." "I thought you and Patrick were attached at the hip.")

"I think I saw him heading outside. He was with Frank I think," Mikey said. They were in the kitchen and had found the alcohol. He poured Pete another drink, taking a sip to stop it overflowing and then passing the glass to Pete.  
"Frank?" Pete took a drink from the glass and winced. Mikey Way was either a terrible bar man or an amazing party animal because that drink was strong enough to take down an ox. Maybe he should switch to beer.  
"Yeah, I know him from way back. I ran into him here earlier. I think he knows Joe through a friend of a friend. Frank is good people." Mikey took a sip from his own drink and Pete wondered if it was the whiskey to coke ratio was as bad as in his.  
"Oh cool. Wanna come find him with me?"  
"Sure, but if Frank brought Patrick outside he's probably hitting on him. Frankie goes after what he wants." Mikey was smiling. "If Patrick's into him, he's so getting laid tonight."  
Pete laughed lightly but for some reason, he wasn't as amused at the thought as Mikey was.

They made their way through the kitchen, grabbing some beers for Patrick and Frank on the way, and then headed out to the back yard. The yard was littered with people sitting around and talking. There was a barbecue firing at the other end with plastic garden furniture surrounding it. Pete scanned the area Patrick. His eye caught a familiar fedora by the boundary wall of the garden. Patrick was leaning his back against the wall and there was a figure facing him, back to the rest of the garden. Pete assumed this to be Frank. He was no body language expert, but from the posture of the man he was definitely hitting on Patrick. Frank was leaning his weight on one arm against the wall, his head close to Patrick's and they seemed to be smiling and laughing animatedly together, Frank gesturing wildly with a cigarette filled hand through some story that Patrick was apparently highly amused by, laughing with his head thrown back and his mouth open. He loved seeing Patrick laugh like that.

Mikey took Pete by the wrist and lead him over to Frank and Patrick, and commenced introductions. Pete had to admit that Frank seemed like a cool guy. He was shorter than Pete, covered heavily in tattoos, and smiled easily at everyone. Mikey passed the beers to Frank who cracked them open against the rough surface of the brick wall and handed one to Patrick. Pete watched him clink the bottle off Frank’s with a smile and drink deep.

"Mikeyway, it's been too long. Last time I saw you you didn't have a new boyfriend," Frank said, and Mikey looked wide eyed at him, like a deer in the headlights. Frank seemed to pick up on Mikey's unease as Pete pointedly looked at Patrick and raised an eyebrow. "Oh," said Frank, and he grimaced a little. "Not had that conversation yet, huh? Glad I could contribute to making your night awkward then, Mikey." He laughed and clapped Mikey on the shoulder, and Mikey laughed too. Pete joined in but he hoped the subject would get dropped.

It was true that Pete and Mikey hadn't had any sort of discussion about where they were going. Nor did he particularly want one just yet. If Pete was blatantly honest he was happy to just be dating a decent guy. There was no rush to put labels on anything. He hadn't been in any sort of relationship in a long time. He had in the past been one for jumping in with both feet, wearing his heart on his sleeve, giving far too much away too quickly, or falling for someone who didn't feel the same way and that frequently left chaos behind. He didn't need another emotional car crash. He was happy to just see what happened.

As it happened, Pete was lucky and the subject moved on.

"You know, Pete, I've known Mikeyway a long time. I have loads of stories about him. Fuck, I have photos too. Hilarious photos," Frank told him with a smirk. Mikey slung his arm around Frank’s neck laughing.  
"Frank's a compulsive liar by the way, Pete, just so you know. It's so bad sometimes it's practically a medical condition," he laughed. "I wouldn't believe a word he says unless it's making me sound great. You must have all the dirt on Pete though, right, Patrick?"

"Jesus, you'd need all night," Pete joked.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure anything I know is classified. Or at least would take several more drinks and a large cash settlement for me to tell," Patrick said with more or less a straight face, and Pete grinned at him. Fuck yeah, roommate code had to protect all the weird and random things Patrick knew about him. Or it could just be because Patrick was as loyal as they came.

"Is there dirt on Patrick?" Frank asked Pete with a raised eyebrow. "So far he seems like a nice guy, but it's always the quiet ones, right? Like is Patrick a secret deviant and steals old ladies' underwear or something?" He turned to Patrick, "Or you're a closet Justin Bieber fan?"

Patrick giggled. "I'm pretty sure I don't have any old lady underwear hidden in my room. And I am not a Bieber fan, Jesus."

Pete swigged his beer and waved a hand dismissively. "There's no dirt on Patrick at all, he's an angel. Aren't you, Pattycakes?" Patrick narrowed his eyes at Pete and gave him a look somewhere between sceptical and "shut the fuck up". But there was also a long-suffering air from him. He was used to Pete saying stuff like that, like it was a joke, and seemed to mostly filter it out. Pete grabbed him in a playful headlock with a big smile on his face. His voice was sincere when he said, "he's perfect!"

Joe appeared in the yard and squeezed himself between Pete and Patrick, throwing his arm around Pete's shoulder. "Dude, I'm so glad you guys came. This is great. Make sure you get food. There's about a hundred burgers to be eaten so go knock yourself out, there's tons of other stuff too. You should see the size of the fucking cake they got me. Like I don't eat enough cake at work." He turned to Frank. "Good to see you man. We gotta catch up later."

"Yeah, thanks for inviting me man. Great party. I'm having a great time," Frank said and Pete saw him glance at Patrick when he said that. Frank pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lit one. He took a drag and when the cigarette burnt down a little he flicked the end, sending specks of ash into the air. When a tiny particle of ash landed on Patrick arm, Frank was quick to brush it off with a charming smile and an apology. Pete was impressed at Frank's subtle pick-up techniques. Patrick looked impressed too.

Andy came over and said quick hellos, but had to take Joe with him; something about a crisis in the kitchen involving a drunk person microwaving things that should not be microwaved. Pete wasn't listening, he was watching the interaction and little glances between Frank and Patrick. Mikey seemed to noticed Pete watching them and suggesting they go back inside. Pete just shrugged. He had no reason to stay outside if Patrick was busy, did he?

Mikey took Pete by the shoulder and lead him away. "Leave Frank to work his magic on Patrick. Frank is a good guy. He'll look after Patrick." Mikey wiggled his eyebrows at the "look after" part. He may as well have used air quotes. Pete knew what he meant and he felt like a dickhead for the pang of something that twisted in his stomach when he thought of it.

Pete looked back over his shoulder and Patrick was laughing again. Frank was all smiles and he was even closer to Patrick than before. Pete scowled involuntarily and felt like an asshole again for it. Frank was a nice guy and Pete should mind his own fucking business. He followed Mikey back into the kitchen in need of a drink.

After several hours of merriment, and when everyone had eaten too much barbecue food and possibly drank too many beers, the party stated to slow down. Pete was squashed into a large arm chair with Mikey half beside him, half on his lap. They were alternating between sloppy kissing, and giggling doing a running commentary on the other guests at the party, making up back stories for them. But somehow Mikey's imaginary back stories weren't as fun as when Pete and Patrick did it. He and Patrick were always great at fitting a story or an imaginary anecdote around someone they had never met. They didn't do it in a mean way but usually made an interesting imaginary life for them based on what they were wearing or their body language. Over time they had concocted lives of super spies, quantum physicists, circus acrobats and movie starlets. It didn't seem to be quite as imaginative with Mikey.

Joe was sitting opposite them, and pretty baked by now. He had been talking with Greta who Pete recognised as the regular in the cafe with a definite thing for him. Pete hoped that Joe would notice her very obvious attempt to come on to him (her hand on his knee, her frequently licking her lips) despite how stoned he seemed. Joe totally needed to hook up and Greta was a sweetheart and would be perfect for him.

Pete was mostly content and relaxed, with Mikey's warm weight against him, but there was a slight unease about him. Something under his skin that didn't fit right and he couldn't place it.

Mikey suggested it was time for them to go and Pete was pretty happy to leave. They hadn't seen Patrick in a while, but he had promised to tell Pete when he was leaving so he knew he must still be here somewhere. He and Mikey circled the long way around the ground floor of the house to check for him and eventually found him in the TV room on a leather recliner, locked at the lips to Frank. Patrick wasn't usually one for huge public displays like that, he was a pretty private guy, so it was unexpected to see him like this. But here he was with Frank draped over him and his hand gripping the hem of Frank's shirt and Frank's inked fingers threading into Patrick's hair as they made out slow and easy, like they could go at it like that for hours. Mikey laughed. "Told you. Patrick was getting lucky tonight. Once Frank sets his sights on someone, he's a charming fucker."

"I fucking heard that." Frank spoke but his voice was low and muffled as he pulled his mouth from Patrick's. Patrick seemed to only notice Pete and Mikey when Frank broke the kiss. Pete felt a little uncomfortable seeing Patrick like that, all flushed skin and kiss worn lips. He didn't want to think about it.

"You were supposed to. Be nice to Patrick or Pete will hunt you down, ok?" Mikey warned, but with a laugh, and Frank just smiled a wide smile and winked at him.  
"I'm always nice, Mikes".  
"Were gonna take off. Be good," Mikey said, and fist bumped Patrick and then Frank, who Pete noticed had to take his hand off Patrick's thigh to fist bump back.

Pete left feeling vaguely nauseous and put it down to the crappy barbecue food, the late night, and maybe one too many beers. He told himself that there was nothing else it could be from.  
Mikey had to leave early the next morning to go to some things for work. He showered and dressed quietly and kissed Pete goodbye telling him he would get breakfast at the comic book store.

Pete was still in bed and didn't feel like getting up. He hadn't heard Patrick coming home last night which meant he had probably gone home with Frank. That was a perfectly fine thing to do, even if it was unusual for Patrick, so why was Pete over thinking it? Why was it bothering him so much? Frank was a sweet and friendly guy. Mikey had vouched for him. And any guy that would make Patrick laugh like he was laughing in the garden couldn't be bad could they?

He just couldn't shake it.

He dragged himself up and out of bed and stepped into the shower before even entering the kitchen. He turned on the water and began to wash himself. His mind began to wander and he couldn't get the image of Patrick kissing Frank out of his head. Patrick had looked so loose and undone. Pete hadn't seen him like that in a long time, and then he had been making out with a girl, not a guy. It felt different, somehow. The thought of Patrick's mouth, wet and open and sliding against Franks and without meaning to Pete spent longer than necessary washing his chest, his fingers grazing his nipples, which sent heat to his dick. He could feel himself getting hard at the thought of Patrick's tongue working against Frank's and how pink and swollen Patrick's lips had looked when he broke away from the kiss. Pete couldn't help himself, it seemed. He curled his hand around his dick and began to jerk himself off fast and heavy under the hot water, imagining Patrick's lips on his own instead of Franks, imagining Patrick wrapped around him the way he had been wrapped around Frank. When he came, he braced himself against the tiles. He hated himself a little bit for jerking off thinking of his best friend. He felt like a dirty pervert.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

But he knew. It was an old feeling. One he hadn't let himself feel for a long time.

About a year previously, they had all been at a housewarming party in Andy's. The place was buzzing and the house was full of people. It was the sort of housewarming party that made sure you pissed off your neighbours before you were even fully unpacked. Pete, Patrick and Patrick's then girlfriend Elissa had gone together and were plied with alcohol on arrival and no one had really stopped after that. Someone had even supplied (vegan) Jell-O shots. Nobody's glass had been even close to dry all night then someone decided it would be a great idea to play truth or dare, or spin the bottle, or something that they were far too old to play considering none of them were in high school anymore. There were no rules to the game except that everyone had to do stupid dares and give away all their secrets and of course, keep drinking.

Joe had been dared to run to the end of the block and back in only his boxers. He had done it and even came back with more people for the party. Andy had told a debauched tale of hooking up with a famous musician’s girlfriend. Brendan had to lick the underside of a shoe. No one was left uncorrupted.

Someone, (and later Pete could never remember who) had dared Pete to kiss Patrick. Like a somewhat grown up version of seven minutes in heaven except that they didn't have to go in a closet, and they weren't thirteen years old. They were both drunk enough to be game for it, and really it was only kissing anyway. Pete was giggling when he stood close to Patrick and joked, "Here are some of my best moves, Trick," and pressed his lips against Patrick's. The kiss was a little unsure to start with but not bad considering they were standing surrounded by their friends and getting cat called the entire time. The kissing turned open mouthed and messy as Pete sunk himself into it and he could feel Patrick's mouth eagerly moving against his own. And there were tongues involved which he had been surprised by. The room seemed to fall silent for Pete despite the whooping and cheering and background music, all he could hear was Patrick's breathing and the gentle sound of their mouths working against each other. The dare had been to kiss for three minutes but those three minutes seemed to pass in an instant and when the time was up and they supposed to end it, Pete found it harder to pull himself away than he had thought.

Elissa had joked about how hot they looked kissing and suggested they go again. They kissed a second time, a kiss that started off as a giggly and messy kiss and ended hotter than Pete had thought. He had laughed it off, so did Patrick, but if he was honest with himself he had enjoyed kissing Patrick far, far more than he had ever known he would.

The night had continued in the same fashion: drinking and dares and stupid stories and by the time the sun was coming up and the birds were singing, the house was clearing out and he, Patrick and Elissa had walked home together and nothing had ever been mentioned about it again.

But Pete had thought about it afterwards. Pete had thought about that kiss for days. He knew he had been drunk but he could still remember so many details about those few moments even if there were other things about the night he had erased from memory. He remembered how soft and eager Patrick's lips were against his. He remembered how Patrick tasted of beer and jello. He remembered how he had felt a rush of blood to his groin that he hadn't expected. He remembered way too many details for something that should have been nothing more than a dared and drunken kiss with a good friend.

He had thought about it for days, weeks. And obsessed a little about it, because that's what he did best. Things in the apartment seemed different. Pete had felt weird if Patrick walked around in his underwear, which to be fair was a rare occurrence but it still happened once in a blue moon. He felt awkward if they touched off each other even if it was just a brush of fingers or Patrick's feet on his lap watching TV. He had felt like a pervy creeper when thought of Patrick's mouth had found their way into his head when he jerked himself off. That had happened more than once and it was something Pete would probably never ever admit to if he was questioned.

But Patrick was his best friend. And he had a girlfriend he was mad about. And he had never shown any indication that he would go for a guy like Pete even if he was single, so there was no point in being an asshole and bringing it up just to make everything weird.

He'd sulked a bit, wrote a lot, and eventually spoken to Joe and taken an impromptu vacation with Brendan where he pretty much switched his brain off for two weeks. He went to a tacky resort in Mexico where all he did was drink too much, sunbathe and have too many regrettable one night stands with people he had to avoid at the pool the next day. He had wished he had some sort of function key he could press, like an "ignore all" when it came to thoughts of Patrick. Or at least inappropriate thoughts of Patrick. He pushed everything away inside his head where there were so many other things he never dealt with. He got a new tattoo, a winged keyhole, high on his bicep, feeling like if he locked it away it wouldn't really exist anymore, or something. He wasn't sure anymore.

When he got back, Patrick and Elissa were is the middle of a pretty messy break up which was on-again-off-again for weeks and weeks. Patrick had done the breaking up. He never talked about why, but no matter the reason for the end of a relationship it was always shitty. Seeing Patrick so cut up made him forget his selfish pining and resume the roll of much needed best friend. Pete stepped up and became the shoulder to cry on, drinking buddy, therapist, chef, house cleaner, whatever for the weeks that Patrick was getting back to being himself, and did it gladly. He'd do anything for Patrick. It had been one thing having feelings for Patrick but he wanted to stay his friend more than anything. He felt that if he told Patrick how he felt or ever acted on those feelings he would fuck things up beyond repair.

Pete forced himself to grow the fuck up, and move the fuck on.

Once or twice Pete hadn't kept it together as well as he normally would. On a hot summer day when he and Patrick had been sitting in the apartment with the air conditioning on full blast and they were both sweaty and gross from the heat. Patrick had produced popsicles from the freezer and handed one to Pete. Patrick had sat watching television eating a raspberry popsicle and Pete had been hypnotised watching him. He watched Patrick’s mouth curve around the ice, lips pink and plump against it. He watched as the ice melted and left a wet, red sheen behind it. Pete had let his mind wander just a little to imagine Patrick taking it into his mouth and bobbing his head, as if… Pete had snapped back to reality with a shake of his head and excused himself for a moment to wash his hands: while he'd been watching Patrick give the popsicle an imaginary blowjob, his own one had been melting all over his fingers. He'd chastised himself for that slip. He was a shitty excuse for a friend.

After several months of internalised freaking out he had actually moved on. He'd gone on some dates, sometimes even a few dates with the same person. Nothing special, but it felt good.

When he had met Mikey, he had quite liked him and thought he was over everything. But evidentially he wasn't. He felt a spark, something he hadn't felt in a long time. But it didn't seem to last because as much as he liked Mikey, somewhere inside he knew he wanted Patrick more.

And seeing Patrick with Frank made him fucking jealous. He shouldn't be, but he was. And it was going to fuck him up until he sorted himself out.

After his shower, he dried himself off, returned to his room and got dressed. He made his way to the kitchen for coffee and toast and instead of finding the kitchen empty, he found Patrick sitting at the kitchen table pouring over his laptop.

Something in Pete's stomach released and he felt a little more at ease. Patrick hadn't stayed out all night then. And Frank wasn't here. So they probably hadn't slept together. He felt like a selfish prick for being pleased.

"Hey. I didn't know you were here."  
Oh shit, oh fuck. Pete felt a tiny panic when he remembered he had just jerked off. Thinking of Patrick. Loudly. Assuming the apartment to be empty. He thanked all of the gods that he hadn't mentioned Patrick's name when he came. If he had done that he'd probably have to move out there and then, and gone to live under a bridge somewhere where no one would have to deal with his shit anymore. "There goes Pete The Pervert," they would say to him, under his bridge. Ok, he might be being a little bit dramatic. He was good at that.

He felt uncomfortable thinking about it so he made himself busy. He filled the toaster and then stuck his head into the cupboard, taking much longer than needed looking for peanut butter.

"Hey. Yeah I got home a while after you, I think. I couldn't really sleep though" Patrick looked like he hadn't slept much at all. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "There's coffee made, but I don't think there's much left."  
"You didn't stay out?"  
"Nah. I wasn't feeling it." Patrick looked uncomfortable.  
"But…" Pete started. And he knew he shouldn't push it, but he did anyway. "You looked pretty cosy with Frank when I left."  
"Yeah, I just wasn't feeling it."  
"So do you think you'll see him again?" Pete should shut his fucking mouth.  
"I dunno." Patrick gave him a look, his eyes intense, and Pete dropped it then. If he pushed it further Patrick would get pissed off. Or worse, he would question why Pete was so interested in his sex life.

And Pete couldn't tell him that. No way.

******

It had been about ten days since Joe's birthday and the party and Pete was slowly starting to freak out about Patrick again. He found himself remembering all the things he had noticed the first time his crush on Patrick had appeared. He noticed the dry sense of humour Patrick had, the fact that he could say something hilarious with a deadpan face. And when he did laugh, Pete noticed the little crinkles that appeared at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't help but smile when he caught Patrick in his own little world, humming along to the radio when he was cooking thinking no one was watching him. Pete was fairly sure that he was in love with the sound of the soft sigh that Patrick made when he was staring at his laptop trying to figure something out or trying to keep his temper. And suddenly, once again, Pete couldn't get over how gorgeous Patrick looked. All the time. In any circumstances. One day there was a heavy rain shower which Patrick got caught in. Pete had been on the couch channel surfing and Patrick had come in to the apartment shaking water all over the floor. Pete's breath had caught when he saw Patrick's soaking clothes cling to every curve of his frame, water dripping from him in little rivers, his normally fair hair plastered dark against his forehead. Pete did the hundred yard dash to hide in his room when very impure thoughts entered his head, seeing him all wet and gorgeous, and fuck he looked gorgeous. He was a fucking creep.

When Pete composed himself, he returned to the living room and joined Patrick who had dried himself off, changed his clothes and was wearing one of Pete's old hoodies. It had neon bats on on it and Patrick looked ridiculous but it made Pete's heart sing. "Wanna get pizza?" Patrick asked. "Sure," Pete said, like there would be any other answer. He grabbed his cell phone to call the pizza place. "The delivery guy from down the street already hates us cos we're so close but always want delivery, being that we are lazy bastards. May as well cement it by making him come over in the rain." Patrick laughed at that "Yeah, they hate us. Fuck it, we can just tip him. Plus, it's only rain. I was out in it. And look! I'm still alive!" Patrick made a pose like he was displaying himself in all his alive-glory.

The vibrating of Pete's cell phone told him that he had a text message. When he looked at it, he was it was from Mikey and his heart sank a little. He had almost forgotten he had an almost-boyfriend in the shape of Mikeyway. Poor Mikey. Pete had pretty much made up his mind to end things with Mikey and cut him loose. It wasn't fair to continue to see him if Pete had a hardcore crush on his roommate. A tiny part of Pete wanted to let it play out a bit longer to see if he could push his stupid feelings for Patrick away again like he had last time. But he wasn't a monster. Mikey deserved better than to be the wait-and-see-guy and to be on the end of Pete's indecisiveness.

The text from Mikey asked if Pete wanted to come over for a movie. Pete didn't reply yet. He wouldn't leave Mikey hanging but he still didn't like letting people down.

"Another bootycall?" Patrick asked.  
"Nah, not really."  
"It's not Mikey?"  
"It is Mikey, but I'm not really in the mood. And besides I'm all comfy here with my best Patrick," Pete said, and he wasn't lying. He curled his hand around Patrick's calf that was snug on Pete's lap and gave it a gentle squeeze.  
"Fair enough. But that's probably the first time someone has turned down a date for a night on the couch with me. Congratulations, you just made history".  
"Well first off, that's a lie and we both know it," Pete started and cut across Patrick before he could disagree. "And even if it was true, there's worse things I could be in the history books for, Pattycakes." He grinned at Patrick until Patrick gave in and smiled back.

The next night Patrick came home late to Pete sitting in the dark with the TV on. He was huddled on the couch with the hoody pulled up over his head and a pillow clutched to his chest obscuring most of his face and the dirty blanket over his lap. Pete didn't turn his head to look at Patrick, but just said "Hey, Trick. Watching The Woman In Black on DVD, Joe leant it to me."

"Are you nuts? That's creepy as fuck. You can't watch that on your own." Patrick sounded aghast, but threw his stuff on the floor beside the couch and climbed onto the seat next to Pete.  
"You said you wouldn't watch this again. Too creepy," Pete pointed out.  
"Yep" replied Patrick, "but you can’t watch it on your own". Pete turned to watch as Patrick pulled his hood up so it matched Pete's and grabbed the other cushion to hide behind. Pete could barely keep the smile off of face as he watched him, until Patrick told him off. "Quit staring at me. You're freaking me out more than that fucking ghost is."

Pete made up his mind there and then to call it a day with Mikey. Even if nothing would ever happen with Patrick, being with Mikey didn't make him as happy as he felt now. When Pete thought about it, Mikey was missing one thing, one very big and important thing: he wasn't Patrick. It had to end.

Pete called Mikey the next day. When Mikey came over, it went both better and differently to how Pete imagined.

"Look Pete, it's ok, I sort of saw it coming. We've barely talked the past week. And I had fun while it lasted. No hard feelings, ok?" Mikey was pulling his jacket on, getting ready to leave. He might be saying he was ok with it but Pete could see in his eyes that he didn't want to stay and talk it to death. "But I gota ask," Mikey continued, "is it because of Patrick?"

Patrick? Why would Mikey think it has anything to do with Patrick? How did Mikey know? "What? No. What do you mean?"

"Maybe I'm picking up all the wrong signals, but Patrick seems totally into you." Pete blinked at him. What was he saying? He let Mikey continue. "He never wants to hang out with you when I'm there. I mean he's always super friendly with me, but I don't think he actually wants me to be there. Not with you. That night when we were all watching TV when I brought over the cupcakes, he couldn't take his eyes off your mouth when you were licking that frosting. That show you put on might have been for my benefit but he was getting off on it too." He paused. "And whether you want to admit it or not, I saw your face when Patrick hooked up with Frank, you weren't happy in the slightest. You're not as good at acting as you think, you know."

Pete's head was swimming. He thought he knew Patrick inside out. There had never ever been any indication from him that he was ever interested in Pete as anything more than friends. Ever. How was it that Mikey saw something that he hadn't?

"I mean, you guys have never had anything going on together have you?" Mikey questioned.  
"No. I mean. Not really no."  
"Not really or not at all?"

Pete thought of the one and only night he and Patrick had ever kissed. That stupid fucking kiss that turned him upside down.

His attention snapped back to the present when he saw Mikey's questioning look. Pete still hadn't answered.

"We just kissed drunkenly. Months ago. It was nothing."

"Well whatever, Pete. I think you need to think about what you want. And if it's Patrick you should just fucking go for it. Go be happy."

Mikey kissed him on the lips to say goodbye and Pete closed his eyes, willing himself to feel a tingle or a spark anywhere near the level of chemistry he felt when he kissed Patrick but it came up short. Very short, and it made Pete feel sad. Somewhere deep in the pits of his stupid brain he had felt like it was worth one final desperate attempt to get on with his life and maybe have a relationship with someone. And with someone who was as awesome as Mikey. And instead, nothing happened and he was shoved back to the miserable state of pining after Patrick. Fantastic. Why the fuck would he expect anything less?

Pete let Mikey out of the apartment and locked himself in his room and lay on the bed with his face pressed into his pillow.

He didn't want to think about what he wanted. He didn't want to think at all.

********

Pete spent the next few days in hell. His own personal hell that he designed especially for him to torture himself in. Because he was a moron. He argued with himself back and forth about what the fuck he was supposed to do.

He tried to weigh it up on both sides. He thought of the potential chaos that could come from letting Patrick know that he had some sort of feelings for him. It could destroy their friendship. It could mean that he could both lose his best friend and maybe even his home if Patrick took it badly or it got weird between them.

But there was also a tiny amount of potential for something good to come from this. If Mikey was right, and he was allowing himself to really hope that he was, then maybe Patrick actually liked him too and things could work out.

Pete was a mess. He hadn't slept properly in days, just cat naps and a few hours here and there when his brain shorted out. He was eating only junk food and drinking far too much coffee. Probably not helping with the not sleeping. He felt like a love sick teenager. It had been at this point the last time that he had fucked off to Mexico, but he couldn't do that again this time.  
He was actively avoiding Patrick until he figured out what to say or do or how to handle it. It hadn't been that difficult so far though. Patrick had been snowed under with work and his schedule was the opposite of Pete's most days, only coming home when Pete was locked away in his bedroom and he left for work long before Patrick surfaced for his own work.

Joe and Andy noticed Pete's shift in mood and they most definitely noticed the change in his appearance; unkempt hair from sleeping in odd positions for not long enough, bags under his eyes from tiredness, unshaven jaw, ashen complexion from all the junk food. Both Andy and Joe both assumed that Pete and Mikey had had a bad break up. Pete didn't correct them because that was easier to sell than "I have a hard on for my best friend and I'm probably going to ruin my life". Mikey hadn't visited the shop and Pete was monosyllabic and looked like death which fit the description of a broken heart.

"You wanna talk about it?" Joe had asked.  
"No thanks."  
"You wanna get raging drunk and avoid talking about it?"  
"Maybe. But not right now."

Later, when Pete was taking a break Joe had asked him again if he was ok. Pete thought about it. "Kind of. Joe, can I ask you. If you liked someone. Would you tell them? Even if there was a big chance of falling on your face and ruining everything?"  
"Are you going to tell me you love me, Pete?" Joe joked but Pete didn't laugh.  
"Not you, Joe."  
Joe seemed to get it. "Dude, it's probably worth it. Take a chance. I asked Greta out and she said yes." Joe paused, looking rather pleased. "Tell him." Pete got the sneaking suspicion that Joe knew exactly who he was talking about too. Maybe it was because Mikey had pointed it out, but he suddenly felt like his crush on Patrick was not even a little bit stealthy like he had thought it was.  
"That's great man." Pete was genuinely pleased for Joe. He and Greta would be great together.  
"What I mean is, you won't know until you tell him. Would it be worse to wonder if it could have worked out?"  
"You're pretty wise Joe."  
"I am." Joe looked really pleased with himself, and Pete finally smiled. "Think about it. But don't drive yourself crazy. Go do it."

Joe eventually sent Pete home early because he was distracted and useless in work anyway.

Pete sat at home all afternoon until it turned into evening. He stared at the ceiling of the living room and thought about it all again from start to finish.

Ok. Fuck it.

What had he got to lose? Well, besides his best friend. He didn't want to lose Patrick from his life entirely under any circumstances. But he but had to talk to him or he would lose his fucking mind and that would be worse.

Pete decided he would just stop avoiding everything and wait for Patrick to come home. He sat on the couch waiting, channel surfing but not watching anything at all. The only thing that occupied his brain was the thought that he needed to talk to Patrick. He decided to use the technique he found most helpful, which was writing. He poured over one of his many journals and wrote and wrote and wrote, trying to figure out what way to approach it. He eventually fell asleep waiting for Patrick with his notebook sprawled out in front of him.

When he woke, the living room was dark with the only light coming from the flickering television. Pete noticed that there was someone on the room.

Patrick was home but he was sitting motionless in the chair opposite him. Pete was bleary eyed and sore from sleeping scrunched up. He was sure he had a fringe pattern on his face from the cushion his face had been squashed against. He sat up slowly. "Hey Trick. I didn't hear you come in" he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. "Is it really really late? Or was my nap just so hardcore that I fell into a brief coma?"  
When Patrick didn't answer, Pete peeled himself off the couch to go to the kitchen for water. "You want a drink? I was actually hoping you'd be home soon. I, uh. I wanted to talk to you." It was then that he saw his notebook in Patrick's hands.

"That’s my notebook."

Patrick was silent for a moment. "Is this true?"  
"What?" Fuck.  
"This! I came home and you were asleep. I was going to put the blanket over you while you slept and your notebook was open on the table and I saw my name. Look, I didn't mean to read it but when I saw my name I couldn't not look at it. Is this true?"

"Um." Pete didn't know what to say. Now was the exact moment he had been thinking about for days and Patrick had set it up for him. He wasn't mad that Patrick had read what he had written, not even close. It actually made it easier for him. It forced him to talk now rather than chicken out. "Yes. Please don't get freaked out".

"I..." Patrick started to say something but seemed to stop himself like he ran out of words.

Here goes nothing.

"Ok. Patrick I liked you. After we kissed at Andy's party that time, I was into you." Pete couldn't believe he had just said that but somewhere in the back of his mind he felt a rush of relief because he had kept that to himself for a long time.

"What?" Patrick looked at him disbelieving. "Pete, that party was about a fucking year ago. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I liked you. I fucking liked you. I did. After we kissed I couldn't get you out of my head. I grew all these fucking feelings for you. But you had a fucking girlfriend." He rubbed his palms over his eyes. He was raising his voice with the sheer force of the words spilling out of him. "And when you guys broke up I never ever got any signal from you that we were anything but friends. I wanted you in my life regardless of whether I was with you or not so I sucked it up and got on with it. You're my best friend. I'm not lying when I say I think were soul mates you know. I'd do anything for you. I fucking moved on because I had to, Patrick. But when I saw you with Frank, I dunno. Something kicked in again." When he finished speaking he looked at his feet. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see Patrick's reaction. His best friend in the universe and he was fucking it all up. He couldn't stand it.

Patrick didn't speak for a long time. And when he did all he said was, "Really?" His expression was unreadable.

Pete couldn't move off the couch. He picked at a hole in the knee of his jeans and wished he had never opened his big fucking mouth. He knew he'd fucked it up now. "I'm sorry I said anything. I just. This is Mikey's fault," he muttered, more to himself than to Patrick.

"Mikey's fault? What has it got to do with Mikey?" Patrick sounded even more confused.  
"Nothing. He said he got the vibe that you were into me too. Which I now realise sounds too ridiculous to be true." Pete rubbed his eyes again. He was still actively not looking at Patrick by staring at the floor when Patrick finally reacted. He moved from the chair and across the room to beside Pete.

"Mikey's not a million miles off," Patrick said, his voice low. And that made Pete turn his head to look at him. The room seemed to hum with white noise as his brain went full tunnel vision on what Patrick had just said. Patrick shifted his weight. He looked like he couldn't sit still.  
"Patrick," Pete started but Patrick cut across him.

"That party was a fucking long time ago. I don't know if you remember but Elissa and I didn't last very long after it before we broke up. She didn't know it but we broke up cos I was falling for you" he shifted again, training his eyes on the coffee table. "I was fucking falling for you, but you're you and I'm me, and I knew it couldn't happen. I gave up. So don't say it unless you mean it."

Pete couldn't believe the words that were echoing around his brain, the letters that formed them were running through all of his synapses trying to fit them together to make sense. There was a slow, flickering heat building somewhere behind his ribcage at the thought. Patrick had said he liked him. Patrick had actually said the words I was falling for you.

"I mean it, Trick. I promise I mean it."

"Pete, you're a fucking idiot." Way to make a guy feel good, Pete knew he was an idiot. That's how they got here. "But I'm an idiot too," Patrick added.

Pete blinked at him. "Say that again" and before Patrick could try to explain about how he was an idiot, Pete clarified "The bit about falling for me. I need to know I didn't imagine it."

Patrick took Pete's hand and wound their fingers together. He took a breath like he was preparing himself, but there was a tiny smile on his face like he was humouring Pete a little. "Pete, I liked you. And not just as a roommate, or as a friend. I started falling for you" Patrick smiled a bigger smile now. "I had a massive boner for you. I still do. Ok?"  
Alright, Pete hadn't lost his mind after all. Hearing those words made his stomach backflip and his pulse race. He wasn't sure if he had ever had that many little somersaulting butterflies in his belly before that moment . Patrick's fingers felt warm against his own and he squeezed them tighter. He was suddenly so aware of how close Patrick was. He was right there. He felt a sort of awkward he had never felt with Patrick before. He had always felt comfortable with their physical contact: he hugged and cuddled him, he regularly had his arm around Patrick's neck or waist. But this was different. They were holding hands because *Patrick liked him*.

But awkwardness aside, his heart was full of joy. He laughed. "We really are fucking idiots. This whole time? Both of us? For almost a year?" He couldn't believe it. He tightened his grip on Patrick's hand.

"So Patrick. If we have wasted the guts of a year pining after each other being literally being the dumbest fucks I have ever heard of, what do we do now?" But Patrick stole a downward glance at Pete's mouth and Pete was pretty sure he knew what he wanted to do.

He leaned closer and lightly pressed his lips against Patrick's. This was their first kiss. He would never count their drunken and dared fumble as a first kiss with Patrick even if it had been what had set everything off. That wasn't special. But this was. This was what he wanted to savour. He felt the softness of Patrick's lips as they pressed back against his own. It felt very tentative, mouths moving slowly against each other. When Patrick parted his lips, Pete took that as invitation and slid his tongue in and Patrick welcomed it, kissing back against it. Pete felt his breath stutter a little as he deepened the kiss, but kept it slow.

Patrick gripped the front of Pete's shirt in his hand and pulled him closer. He changed his position and lay back onto the couch, pulling Pete with him and Pete climbed on top of him so that they were horizontal on the couch cushions.

They continued to make out, slow and soft and lazy, the kind of making out that could have gone on for hours; just slow explorative kissing and hands gently roaming and caressing. But when Pete rolled his hips a little, Patrick responded by rolling his hips back and then everything changed. The kissing changed from slow and exploring to messy and wet and it was no longer the sort of making out that didn't have to lead somewhere. They both seemed to know that it was about to move beyond just kissing and touching. 

"Can I blow you please Trick" and fuck he wanted to blow him. Patrick just groaned a yes and shifted back onto the cushions further, Pete's weight pressing him down. Pete traced his hand down Patrick's body to the strip of bare skin on show from his tshirt rucking up. He shifted his fingers to work the belt and zipper on Patrick's jeans open without breaking the kiss. Once his pants were open enough, Pete shoved his hand in and stroked Patrick through his boxers but only briefly. He was hot and hard and really fucking perfect and Pete's touch made Patrick groan into Pete mouth. He broke the kiss, but reluctantly, and scooted down the couch and pulled Patrick's jeans down and off. 

He settled between Patrick's knees and had to take a second, to steady himself, and to look back up at Patrick who was biting on his lower lip, before he could continue. He placed both hands on Patrick's hips, feeling the heat of his skin against his palms before pushing down Patrick's boxers. His eyes widened. He didn't waste another second, he gripped his hand around Patrick's dick, making him moan, and gave a few firm and steady strokes. He ducked his head down and gave the underside of Patrick dick a long and slow lick. Patrick seemed to melt at this action, throwing his head back further and arching his hips a little. Pete worked his lips and tongue over Patrick's dick, lapping at the head and licking back down the length of it before Pete took as much of it into his mouth as he could. 

Pete stretched his free arm up Patrick's body and let his fingers roam over his almost bare torso as he rucked Patrick's shirt up further. It felt odd to be allowed to touch now. He traced circles up from his belly to his chest and pinched on his nipple gently. This seemed to be a direct connection to Patrick's dick because Pete could feel it twitch instantly against his mouth. Pete began to bob his head and he could feel Patrick take his hand between both of his. He looked up at Patrick through his lashes to see that Patrick had brought Pete's hand up to his face. Patrick sucked Pete's finger into his mouth and rolled his tongue over it. He looked so goddamn dirty. The sight of Patrick sucking on his fingers, combined with the wet heat of Patrick's mouth (Jesus, that mouth), made him moan around Patrick's dick and he would have sworn if his mouth wasn't so full. It was almost enough to make him come in his pants except he wanted to make it last. He concentrated on Patrick, giving everything he'd got and did his best to ignore the ache in his dick.

Patrick threaded his other hand into Pete's hair, twisting through it gently and moaning pleased sounds onto Pete's fingers that were still in his mouth. 

He so badly wanted to see Patrick come completely undone, to see him let go of everything and come apart. Patrick seemed to read his mind or at least think the same way. He slid Pete's fingers out of his mouth.

"Pete, will you fuck me please" Patrick asked. Pete had to swallow a moan at the thought and he pulled his mouth wetly off of Patrick's dick. He climbed back up and into Patrick's lap, straddling him. He kissed him hard.  
"Fuck yes I will. Thought you'd never ask" Pete replied and that was a one hundred percent honest answer because Pete really thought that this would never happen. Patrick kissed him back and bit his bottom lip before pushing him off. Good idea, fucking on the dirty blanket probably wasn't the sexiest thing they could do.

Standing himself up, Pete tugged his tshirt off and began to unbutton his pants and then Patrick's fingers covered his own and began to do the work for him, fiddling with the belt buckle and zipper until he could push Pete's jeans to the floor. Pete stepped out of them and watched Patrick pull his shirt over his head. Then they were both naked, and Pete felt his breath catch at the vision in front of him. Patrick was alabaster skin, pink nipples and a faint trail of pale hair leading from his stomach down to his dick which was flushed dark from arousal, and good god, he was beautiful. Patrick stood up and took both of Pete's hands and pulled him close for a deep, messy kiss and their bodies were pressed skin to skin from chest to groin. Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick's waist and caressed up his arms and back down again and pulled him as close as he could get so he could feel as much skin as possible. Their dicks lined up and, oh fuck, Pete grunted at the sensation. Patrick kissed into his mouth harder and the friction of their dicks together made him growl, fucking *growl*. How had Pete lived his life until this point without hearing the sound of Patrick Stump growling?

"Your room?" Patrick asked but Pete hadn't changed his sheets since Mikey had stayed over last and that wouldn't feel right at all.  
"No Trick, your room please. Want to fuck you on your bed" Answered Pete. Patrick didn't seem to need further instruction. He took Pete by the hand and lead him down the short corridor to his room. Pete had been in that room a thousand times before, he'd even fallen asleep on Patrick's bed, but this felt very, very different; they had never been there when they were both naked, and about to fuck. It's seemed surreal.

Holding Patrick's face in both hands and stroking his thumb along his jaw, Pete let Patrick walk him backwards until his legs hit the bed and he collapsed on top of it. He pulled Patrick with him and all at once they were a tangle of naked limbs, kissing and rutting against each other. Patrick reached to his bedside table and pulled out lube and a condom. He took his time and traced his tongue over the thorns tattooed around Pete's neck and did the same on the batheart ink on Pete's belly. Pete was kind of amused. He'd been with plenty of guys before and for whatever reason they mostly went for the ink first. He hadn't thought that Patrick would too. Patrick trailed wet and open mouthed kisses down Pete's neck and over his chest, pausing to flick his tongue over Pete's nipples which made him swear repeatedly. Kisses were traced over Pete's belly and the close proximity of Patricks mouth to his dick made Pete's breathing come in shallow pants. He watched Patrick's strawberry blonde head moving down his body and placed his palm against Patrick's skull, threading into his hair. He felt like it grounded him.

"Pete. You better. You gotta fuck me quick, cos if you don't do it soon I'm gonna suck you off and. God, I need you to fuck me" Patrick voice was little more than a breathy growl and it turned Pete on so fucking much to hear him like that and to say those things. He was definitely going to take him up on the offer of being blown, but not tonight.

Patrick trailed kisses back up Pete's torso and then licked into his mouth again. His hand curled around Pete's dick and he gave a few strokes. Pete had thought about this before when he was on his own or in the shower, the thought of Patrick's guitar calloused hand jerking him slowly and deliberately: but the feeling of it in reality far outweighed his imagination. Pete flipped them easily so the he was on top. He rolled a condom on his dick and slicked lube over both his dick and his fingers. He mouthed at Patrick's neck, grazing his teeth over the tight muscle and sinew. He licked and sucked on a spot that made Patrick whine and inched his fingers closer to Patrick's ass. When he pressed a fingertip to the entrance, Patrick hissed and his breath stuttered. Pete slid a finger in and felt Patrick's hand tighten around his arm, and made a desperate and beautiful sound when Pete began to move his finger into Patrick's ass. He added a second finger and then a third, keeping a steady rhythm and opening him up. Patrick edged down towards Pete hand and pushing against it. 

"Pete you gotta..." Patrick didn't finish his sentence but Pete nodded, understanding that Patrick needed to be fucked. And Jesus did he need to fuck Patrick. He wanted it so badly.

Sliding his fingers out, Pete manoeuvred himself into place between Patrick's legs. He lined himself up and pushed forward. He hissed and Patrick groaned. He circled his hips slowly so as to ease them both into it. 

"Fuck. So good. Why didn't we do this before" Pete breathed, his voice was shot.  
"Because we're idiots, remember?" Patrick's voice was equally shredded  
"Oh yeah"

Patrick reached up and placed his palm against Pete's face. Pete leaned into it, closed his eyes and let himself feel everything: the sensation his thighs against Patrick's, the feeling of being buried balls deep inside him, how fast his heart was beating in his chest, how hard and heavy Patrick's breathing sounded. He felt it all, but then held back to prolong everything as long as possible. Seeing Patrick laid out below him was amazing. 

"So gorgeous. So hot. Never thought I'd see you like this" Pete breathed. His voice little more than a gravely whisper. He circled his hips again, grinding into Patrick and then began to thrust, slow and deep and steady. Patrick pushed back down against the movements and Pete began to speed up his pace and Patrick just fell apart in front of him, babbling and moaning and pulling Pete forward to desperately kiss him again. Pete only needed to wrap his hand around Patrick's cock and stroke in time with the thrusts to know he was almost there.

When Patrick came it was beautiful. He threw his head back and groaned long and low. His eyes were shut and his face was scrunched up in ecstasy as he spilled all over both of them. He stared up at Pete, breath ragged and a smile broke onto his face and Pete couldn't help but return it.

As amazing as it was to watch Patrick try to regain composure and breath again, Pete was pretty desperate by now. He didn't want to keep pounding into Patrick, he knew how sensitive Patrick would feel if he kept at it. He pulled out and quickly whipped the condom off. Wrapping his own hand around his dick, he began to jerk himself off fast and hard, his hand blurring with the movement. He looked down at Patrick and felt his chest tighten at the sight below him. Patrick's mouth was slack and wet and his eyes, which were dark and lidded, were darting between Pete's face and his hand. He was just watching and taking it all in. When Patrick spoke his voice was horse and rough. 

"Come, please Pete. Come for me. Want to see it" Patrick whispered, and he reached his hand towards Pete's dick but it didn't make it there before Pete came. Patrick's words ran through him like live wire and his body wrenched forwards and stiffened. He came with a guttural moan that originated somewhere low in his chest, as he spilled hot come all over his hand and Patrick's belly. It took everything out of him. He let his body fall forward to lean his head against Patrick's chest just trying to breath.

Patrick fitted his hands to Pete's head, just holding him as he breathed through it slowly and tried to focus his vision again.

When Pete could move again he shuffled up the bed and lay on his side beside Patrick, their faces close and a huge smile plastered on his face. "So that happened".  
"Yep." Patrick beamed back. "It really did".

Pete lifted Patrick's arm up so that he could pull it around him and snuggle his head onto Patrick's chest. He reached over and pulled the bed covers up over them and wrapped his free arm around Patrick's chest. He could feel Patrick's heartbeat pulsing and it was slowing down to a normal pace. It was comforting and he felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.  
"Good". He murmured sleepily. "I just had to check that I didn't imagine it. It was fucking hot. Could have been a dirty dream".

"You had dirty dreams about me Pete?" Patrick laughed.  
"All the fucking time, Pattycakes. I'm almost sure you are a dream, dirty or not. The best one".  
"You're a cheesey fucker, Wentz"

Pete grinned and let his eyes fall shut. Sleep was easy that night.

*******

When Pete woke it took him a few seconds to remember where he was and why his face was pressed against a chest. Patrick's chest. He smiled. He was still pleased it hadn't all been a dream.

Patrick stirred beside him and Pete brought his hand up to stroke a finger along Patrick's jaw. "Morning," Pete said. Before Patrick had even opened his eyes, a smile appeared on his face "morning yourself". Pete had to kiss him. He still wasn't over the fact that he actually could kiss him, that he was allowed. Although a tiny part of him still thought that Patrick would kick him out of his bed in horror at any second.

He pressed his lips to Patrick's and felt Patrick smile against them. Patrick hooked and arm around Pete's neck and pulled him so that he was lying on top of him. Pete kissed him messily and hummed as he felt Patrick's morning wood press against his thigh. He could definitely get used to this. But he hoped there would be plenty of time for that. First he needed to quell his anxieties a little. "Are you ok with all of this? Like, I have to check. Things went from talking, to way, way more than talking last night, and very quickly. I have to check that you're ok with it all."

Patrick looked at Pete like he was mad. But then his face broke into a huge Patrick smile. "Fuck off, Pete. Yes I'm fucking fine with this. I'm more than fine. I want this. Stop over thinking." He smiled again and Pete felt like he could melt. He rolled back off of Patrick to lie on his side again. Patrick spoke first.

"So I think you should move in here, Pete."  
"I already live here, idiot." Pete nudged him playfully.  
"I mean in here, in my room, in my bed, with me, idiot." Patrick elbowed him back, grinning.  
Pete smiled but didn't miss a beat. "What do we do with my room?"  
"What you wanna do with your room?"  
"Oh, there are infinite possibilities," he said gleefully.

"What about a games room?"  
"Maybe," Patrick considered.

"Or like turn it into an Avery, we could get loads of birds?"  
"What? Do you even want loads of birds or are you just fucking with me?"

"What if we got a dog and turned it into the dog’s room?"  
"That could work. You want to get a dog?"

"What about a sex swing."  
"No! Pete what the fuck?"

Patrick was reaching behind him for his pillow and Pete had just enough time to use his arms as a shield before the pillow came crashing towards his head, laughing and half-heartedly defending himself. He knew they would be ok. After years of being friends and roommates, being together seemed like it was going to fit perfectly. Yeh, they would be just fine.


End file.
